Coping
by loki89
Summary: Sherlock is lusting after John and having difficulty coping. Sherlock/John. Disclaimer: I do not own, I play.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment when he started to fancy his flat-mate John Watson, an altogether obscure notion. This, coupled with the fact that he could not place when the feelings arose, was most unnerving given how methodical Sherlock's mind was. He thought it must have begun fairly early on, perhaps even a few days after John moved in; or was it sooner than that? Sherlock's face visibly scowled as he stirred his cup of coffee absently. He was most certain, however, that the inappropriate dreams about John had begun exactly two weeks after John's arrival. That event could not be easily forgotten for he had awoken from his dream with an erection that he found very distasteful. Unfortunately for Sherlock, that night steered the course for how his other nights would play out. Not always the same, of course. Some nights he just had dreams: sweet ones, lustful ones, mournful ones. Other nights he would wake up aroused and frustrated with his body for having such a common reaction and always on those fretful occasions he would refuse himself relief.  
>"Morning!" came John's cheery voice.<br>Sherlock snapped his head up and smiled animatedly at John.  
>Would it be so bad to allow himself release? He mused that it might help abate the thoughts, but he quickly pushed this from his mind, recalling that John was now in the kitchen with him.<br>"Sleep well?" Sherlock asked, knowing that he himself had had a night of unrelenting dreams and an aching member; in other words, he had not slept well.  
>"Yes actually, a dreamless sleep in fact."<br>How fortunate for John.  
>"Pardon me" John said, reaching over Sherlock's arm to grab some sugar cubes. The contact was almost too much for Sherlock and made him ever more aware of his predicament.<br>Sherlock quickly chugged his coffee, "Right, I'm going to pop in the shower than I'm off to meet up with Lestrade." He was already heading out of the kitchen, desperate to be alone, when John called after him: "Save some hot water."

~~~~~~~~~~

In the shower Sherlock tried to clear his head of the thoughts that endlessly pervaded him. The water felt like absolution until the warmth seeped in, making his mind wander once more. He had resisted masturbation thus far, thinking it crude to partake in the act with images of John on his mind; but now would be the perfect time to carry out his illicit deed, being in the safety of the shower where he could wash away all evidence of his base behavior. A moment of weakness, a moment of humanity. With a shuddering breath he lowered his hand and gently took hold of his member whilst calling forward all of his lustful dreams. He worked gently at first, teasing himself with soft and tender strokes, imagining what Johns grip would feel like. It had been ages since he masturbated and the memories of its rewarding release helped him to quicken his pace. At first, he braced one hand against the wall of the shower but decided that was not enough support. He lowered himself to the floor, lying with his back against the tub, the water pelting down upon his stomach and member an added bonus to his aroused state. Fantasies of John pummeling him on the stairs, of John bending him over a desk filled Sherlock with delight; he began to moan.  
>There was a knock on the bathroom door but Sherlock refused to stop or acknowledge the disturbance.<br>The knock came once more, only it lasted a few seconds longer this time. Sherlock kept his pace and bit his lip, the pleasure mounting within his groin.  
>"Sherlock," John's voice called from the other side, "you better not use all the hot water up." Sherlock was panting now and still he did not desist but instead his ministrations grew in urgency.<br>"Sherlock." John called out again, his voice betraying his irritation. "Sherlock, I'm serious." At that moment John's voice served as the cue that pushed Sherlock over the edge; his head fell back against the tub as cum erupted from his member. He tried in vain to suppress the moan that overtook him as his body trembled with pleasure.  
>"Sherlock, are you alright?" Johns tone had changed to concern.<br>For a moment Sherlock could not respond. His breathing was ragged and fast but at last he managed a feeble, "No, I'm fine."  
>"Alright well, hurry up…please?" John seemed to leave after that. Sherlock lay at the bottom of the tub for a few minutes longer before standing up and switching the shower off.<br>How would he face John now? It was bad enough he had repetitive sexual dreams about his flat-mate but now he had masturbated to the sound of John's voice. It seemed decidedly improper but at the time he could not seem to help himself; testament to Sherlock's beliefs that emotions shrouded all competent thought.  
>He dried off and tossed the towel over the shower, a look of dissatisfaction marring his features. After dressing he opened the door and nearly walked right into John. He took an instinctive step back, startled that John was still so near.<br>John stared at him, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."  
>"Quite alright," Sherlock said, meeting his eyes only briefly.<br>John's brows furrowed, "you're alright then?"  
>"Perfectly sound."<br>"Good…" John seemed curious but did not press him further, "Well, I need to shower. See you later tonight."  
>"Right, see you later." Sherlock fled from the bathroom feeling more awkward than he thought possible all the while cursing himself for acting so uncharacteristically in front of his friend. His desire was breaking him into someone he did not recognize; it simultaneously terrified and intrigued him. Later, he would need to take notes of this morning's occurrences in hopes of better understanding them.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Sherlock returned home before John. Bored and contemplative, he plucked lazily at his Violin. For an hour he stayed like this, mind careening and hands moving along the taut chords without purpose. Usually this process produced results, but tonight he was faltering. He knew he would need to confront John at some point. He had made that realization just today. Try as he might, he could not think of how to approach his friend; and therein laid the problem: John was his friend. Sherlock sighed heavily setting the Violin down to stretch his limbs. His thoughts were getting him nowhere.

John arrived some time later with take-away and an apology for being late and an apology for pestering Sherlock about the hot water earlier. Sherlock was befuddled.  
>"First John, being late hardly requires an apology as it was likely out of your control, and second you had every right to make sure there was a fair amount of hot water left since you had work today."<br>John stared at Sherlock then licked his lower lip, "Right yeah, of course." John sat down opposite of Sherlock, "Do you want the fortune cookie?" He asked.  
>Sherlock was momentarily distracted as he continued to stare at the spot where Johns tongue had run along his lip.<br>"No, thank you."  
>Together they ate in a sort of tense silence. Was it tense? Why was it tense? Was it something he said? Sherlock was simply trying to let John know he did not need to apologize for unnecessary things. Sherlock looked up from his box of take-away to see John looking at him with that curious expression on his face again, the one he wore when Sherlock felt his most awkward; that uncomfortable feeling slowly crept back in as he reflected on the morning's events. He masked his expression and continued eating.<br>"You seem a bit…off." Sherlock inwardly sighed.  
>"Do I?" he replied lazily, trying to appear uninterested, hoping John wouldn't bother him further.<br>John sat quietly for a few moments before asking, "Do you want to watch some telly?"  
>"No, actually, I think I'll be heading to bed." Sherlock quickly replied, standing from his seat. He was aware of how oddly he was acting and decided it was best he hide himself away until he could get his head straight.<br>"Good night then." John mumbled.  
>"Night" Sherlock responded, already half way up the stairs.<p>

Inside his room Sherlock quickly dressed for bed, silently reprimanding himself for his behavior. In his quest to appear normal he had failed miserably. What was becoming of him? The one time he finally gave in to pleasure it had backfired on him. He knew better. He consoled himself with the idea that his escapades of this morning were simply trial and error; an experiment to be left alone.

There was a sudden knock on Sherlock's door. This seemed to be an ongoing theme, one that he did not like at all. 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry the format has been so cluttered on these chapters, I'm going to space them out a bit more.  
><strong>

The knock sounded once more, this time more impatient. Sherlock panicked wondering if he should feign sleep, but decided not answering would likely be worse.

"Come in." Sherlock murmured, attempting to sound groggy.

John entered the room looking perturbed. Sherlock sat up in his bed, using his arms for support as he waited for John to speak.

"Look Sherlock, you've clearly been avoiding me because you're upset with me, whatever I've done I'm sorry. We're flat mates, we're supposed to be able to work past issues like this, and I don't even know what the issue is!" John heaved a sigh, frustration and confusion exuding from him; the very emotions that had been plaguing Sherlock. Oh if only John knew. Where to begin? He felt trapped, he just stared at the floor mouth opening and closing without being able to form a coherent thought much less words.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John stood there with his arms folded, still waiting.

"John, it's…" he trailed off. Good lord he had never felt so befuddled in all his life. His chances were slipping away, speak now or hold his peace.  
>"It's not you John, really." Sherlock began only making eye contact here and there, "I've just been a bit <em>off<em> as you noted earlier, I'll snap out of it eventually. Sorry to have caused you distress."

So he had failed. At least it was easier this way; or was it? John continued to stand in place, but now his brow was creased in contemplation.

"You're not using again are you?" John asked quietly, looking intently at him. The question startled Sherlock.

"No, no of course not, that was… awhile ago." Sherlock answered honestly, shifting uncomfortably under Johns gaze. Hell if he were to use again now would be the time, but no, that was quite in the past.

"Okay." John said in return, visibly relaxing, "that's good, very good."

Sherlock nodded. John's proximity to the bed was making him more keenly aware of his longing, something he did not want to be reminded of at the moment. The overwhelming urge to reach a hand out to johns was stifling. This was torment; forget whatever tribulations he had faced in his past, such as addiction and criminals, nothing could compare to this moment. Since what he wanted most was unobtainable he wished now that John would leave him to his solitude, but the man always seemed to find his way in through the doors that Sherlock shut. How terribly inconvenient.

"You're tired, I'm sorry. I just needed to chat. Night, Sherlock." He turned abruptly and left, closing the door behind him. Sherlock fell back against the bed.

"Good night, John." He said aloud before irritably turning over.

That morning Sherlock slept in. Yesterday's meeting with Lestrade had proved to be pointless as he had not been offered any new cases to keep his mind preoccupied, a sure but slow death in Sherlock's present condition. He was still disturbed with much of yesterday's events and decided it would be to his greatest disadvantage to leave the comfort of his bed any time before 9 am. The minutes ticked slowly by but sure enough, at 9:30 he heard John leaving 221B Baker Street for his work.  
>Sherlock spent most the day wandering around aimlessly, clad in his blue robe. He opened books only to immediately close them again, tossed things about and was generally discontent. At four in the late afternoon he fell asleep on the couch. An hour later he was still asleep when John arrived. Sherlock was nestled into the couch, his back facing the room.<p>

"Sherlock, wake up. You'll ruin your sleep." John warned, tapping him on the shoulder.

Sherlock came to with a start. He had been in the middle of one of his incessant and embarrassing dreams involving John and now came to the gloomy realization that he had an erection. This was borderline pathetic. Sherlock was livid with himself, especially since he had shed of his robe some time earlier that day. He refused to move from his spot, he could just sleep a little longer till it wore off.

"Want more sleep." Sherlock muttered.

"Really Sherlock, you'll be up all night." John chuckled, walking over to the sofa to nudge Sherlock's shoulder again. Sherlock shivered at the touch. Bugger, John had to of noticed that.

"Just give me five minutes to find the will to sit up." He replied as naturally as he could under the circumstances.

"Fine." Suddenly John was scooting Sherlock's legs further up the sofa so he could sit at the end. Sherlock, looking quite literally like the cliché _a deer caught in headlights_, stared at John.

John just smiled, "you're not going to hog the sofa." Looking chuffed with himself, he switched on the telly. What had Sherlock done to deserve this? He huddled further in to himself and the back of the sofa but found that John's leg was still pressed firmly against his feet. He thought last night was bad? What fine messes he was finding himself in these days. He tried to focus on his breathing and the sound of the TV but John would shift in his seat or laugh at something on the screen making ignorance to his presence impossible.

After an excruciating 8 minutes of waiting Sherlock felt it was safe to finally sit up. He chose to stay on the sofa but sat as close to the opposite end as possible. He felt positively drained.

"I'm going to grab a beer, want one?" John asked rising from his seat, Sherlock shook his head no. a few seconds later John flopped down on the sofa and took a swig of his drink. Was it Sherlock's imagination or had John sat closer to him? Was the man doing this on purpose, or was he unaware? Sherlock sat rigidly against the arm rest, his knees tucked under his chin.

John looked over at Sherlock, "you're certain you don't want a beer? You seem tense, and you don't have a case going on so it could hardly interfere with anything." John offered helpfully. Sherlock couldn't deny he had a valid point.

"Perhaps I will have one," Sherlock said fixing to stand up.

"No no no, stay put I'll grab it." And he left the room, leaving Sherlock to stare in confusion. Sherlock hastily reasoned that John was likely just trying to be nice given last night's conversation, which made Sherlock feel that he too should put in the effort. John was back and handing him a beer, Sherlock uttered a pleasant _thank you _in return. Sitting next to John was nice when he wasn't preoccupied with how much more he wanted from the man. It took a concerted effort to make sure he did not divulge his feelings or let transgressions come to pass; this was, in a nutshell, why being near John was so very difficult. The beer, though mild in its alcohol content, did seem to help take a bit of the edge off.

It didn't take long for their roles to be reversed. John was now fast asleep on the sofa, the beers having kicked in. Sherlock quickly stood, relieved that he could now leave without seeming rude. First however, he grabbed a blanket and covered John with it, then turned off the telly. He cast one last longing look at his flat mate before ascending the stairs, now mindful that he simply _couldn't _keep going on like this.


	4. Chapter 4

Coping chapitre quatre  
>In which Sherlock confesses his love<p>

_A/N: I apologize for the delay but a lack of inspiration obstructed my path, I also had a very diplomatic debate with some people on tumblr who were against John/Sherlock because they truly appreciated the fact that Holmes was asexual; they didn't want that taken away from them. It was an inspiring but not entirely pleasant discussion which made me want to take a step back for a bit. But I've concluded that while it was triumphant for the asexual community/supporters when Moffat declared Sherlock was an ace character, it would also be triumphant for the LGBT community to have an adaptation that depicted a homosexual relationship. I am open to multiple interpretations of Sir Arthur's stories, I simply prefer John/Sherlock because I've been rooting for it many years now despite my better judgment that Holmes likely is asexual; but I refuse to weed out the possibility of homosexuality. Side note for everyone ever: I support the asexual community; I mean no offense when I say I would like Sherlock to be gay._

This moment was inevitable. Sherlock knew it, deep down. He had been putting it off as long as possible for fear of what the consequences would be and for so many other fears which he could not name. He had built up a safety net which John Watson seemed unknowingly determined to rip apart. The last few days at 221B had been torturous; a sure sign that he needed to overcome his own proclivities and expand that human part of him which had been making its way to the surface of his indifferent façade.

It was Saturday morning; the sun had yet to rise and there lacked a scent of coffee, an indication that John was still asleep. Descending the stairs Sherlock found that John was no longer on the sofa where he had left him the previous night; only the blanket remained, folded neatly on the seat. After preparing himself a cup of tea, Sherlock sat in his armchair, hands folded and mind mentally preparing itself.

How long Sherlock sat there he did not know. The only indication that time had passed at all was the hint of sunlight that now filtered through the partially closed drapes. After a bit of shuffling upstairs, John appeared in the living room, "Good morning" he said with a yawn, still looking very tired.  
>"Morning… John…after you've prepared your tea I was wondering if I might have a word?"<p>

John instantly seemed more alert, "Of course, it'll just be a few minutes."

Sherlock took a deep breath and watched John retreat to the kitchen.

On schedule, John reappeared nursing his steaming cup of tea and settled himself in a chair across the room. "Right, I'm ready." He said with a smile.

"John, when we were on our first case, that night at Angelo's, which you will no doubt remember, I had made an assumption that you were interested in me, a false assumption, a lack of insight on my part as the situation was slightly irregular to me. You may also recall that I more or less hinted at being gay, but that I haven't the desire for relationships as I am married to my work and thus my sexuality is not necessarily properly delineated. For a long time now I have not given sexuality in general much thought, as I am usually preoccupied with cases. They are all the stimulation I require…that is, up until I met you." Sherlock paused to get a good look at John, but John only conveyed an expectation for Sherlock to continue, "you see, I…I now find myself physically attracted to you whereas I previously had not, it's been increasing these past weeks, and I thought it prudent that I inform you of this, so we can both understand how this affects our situation and how it does not."

Sherlock took a deep breath feeling quite winded, he was positively on pins and needles. John cleared his throat, "So finally you've confronted me. Now we're getting somewhere…" he said with a smile. Sherlock was stunned. John had known? Known his torment? Why didn't he say anything?

"You knew?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

John chuckled, "Not at first no, remember I thought you were using again? I genuinely did. It wasn't until we were on the sofa together that I began to question your odd behavior more closely and then I tied in all the other clues. I'm not completely blind, I have some amateur abilities in deduction, though they pale in comparison to yours, but I dare say I have picked up a few things from you." He still smiled, apparently quite pleased with his accuracies.

"Well that's…good." Sherlock replied studying his hands in his lap. John could sense Sherlock's bewilderment and resignation.

"Now Sherlock, listen to me." John stood from his seat to sit in a chair closer to Sherlock's, disposing his cup of tea on the coffee table. This forced Sherlock to look up and into his friend's eyes. "I'm glad you told me this, it was important. But what are you proposing we do about this?"

"I don't know, I rather hoped you had a solution." Sherlock feebly replied.

"I can think of several, but I still don't really understand how you _feel_, apart from being physically attracted to me, is that it?" John pressed on, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"No of course that's not it. But that is the problem isn't it? We work together so well, we're great friends and flat-mates, but now I have these…other feelings." Sherlock almost pouted.

"Then, would it be advantageous to pursue these feelings, perhaps begin developing something more? Because in a way we already have the components to a relationship, save for the physical. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel attracted to you." Sherlock felt his mind reeling. Was a relationship something he wanted to try? It could all go so horribly wrong though.

"What happens if this blows up in our face?" Sherlock queried, "And how do we just jump into the physical counterpart after being friends?"

"Well for one thing we don't need to jump into sex; we could start physical interaction at a simple level and then let it develop its own natural course."

Sherlock calmed himself as he contemplated this, "Hmm." He mused, "That does seem to be the best approach and if the situation does grow…odd or uncomfortable for either party we would simply desist."

John nodded, "Just so."

They sat together in an awkward, contemplative silence that John quickly broke, "Well, we have a whole Saturday ahead of us, should we get lunch somewhere?"

Sherlock smiled gratefully.


	5. Chapter 5

Coping Chapitre Cinq  
>Takes place two seconds after the previous chapter.<p>

_"Well, we have a whole Saturday ahead of us, should we get lunch somewhere?"  
>Sherlock smiled gratefully.<em>

John smiled warmly in return, he reached his hand over to Sherlock's to grasp it tightly before standing from his seat, "I'm going to make a second cuppa."

The gesture had sent a jolt of joy through Sherlock; it was simple but kind, as if conveying that all would be okay. It was comforting, and he was surprised that it seemed to be the very thing he needed. A weight had been lifted due to his confession, but he couldn't deny that in its place a small anxiety was taking root.

Sherlock considered himself rather poor at relationships, having only had a handful in the past, none of which came to fruition. His lack of experience would simply have to be pushed from his mind; John was worth it and doubting himself would only make everything more difficult. John was caring, the very trait that made him so endearing because it was one that Sherlock found he himself often lacked.

As John clattered about in the kitchen, Sherlock tried to focus on how they could fill up the day apart from lunch, but there wasn't much that came to mind as his thoughts were decidedly focused on other matters. 

The rest of the morning passed effortlessly with pleasant chatter and countless cups of tea consumed. At around noon the two men left Baker Street for lunch at Angelo's. It was pivotal in a sense, to return to the place where the idea of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in a relationship had seemed highly unlikely. They returned there now as two friends on the cusp of a romantic endeavor. As they sat eating their meals, Sherlock couldn't help but feel that things had not really changed between them, it was just as familiar and pleasant as ever; only now the promise of a much deeper connection lay ahead and Sherlock was not sure he could simply ease into. He found himself in a great debate as he picked with his salad: he was admittedly nervous to be so intimate with his flat-mate and therefore felt he should give it time, yet he could not deny the insatiable desire he felt just looking at John in his beige jumper; A very lumpy article of clothing that Sherlock was entirely too fond of. He also had to recall that the whole reason he brought up this business with John was because he yearned for the man so intensely.

To wait, or to give in?

John had suggested they take it slow, a perfectly sound analysis of the situation; only Sherlock wasn't feeling his usual rational self. In fact, as he watched john take a sip of his beer, he decided his emotions were anything but rational. Sherlock felt helplessly surrounded by John Watson and all his lovely attributes.

"John, shall we get take-away tonight and watch crap telly?" to Sherlock, the suggestion seemed to offer a whole new level of excitement, it would be the familiar evening but with a different dynamic too it, one he could not wait to experience.

"Sounds good, in fact the new episode of Doctor Who is on tonight at seven!" John offered with enthusiasm.

Sherlock visibly cringed, "As I said, crap telly."

John scoffed before continuing with his meal. 

_A/N: I had to shamelessly throw in the Dr. Who reference. I can be a troll too, Moffat. I love Dr. Who though, not sure Sherlock would, or would he? Also, as you all have seen I left Sarah out of the story. It could be pre-Sarah or she simply doesn't exist, whatever works for you, because I'm not going to address her. And sorry for the short chapter, but we're getting there. Onwards!_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapitre six revised

Sherlock and John decided to pass the day by strolling aimlessly through London's busy streets, swapping stories of previous times. The weather was crisp and cold, but not unbearably so. Walking through the city was perhaps not as exciting as when they were on a case and running through it, but Sherlock found himself pleasantly content to spend the day alongside the one person he truly cared about. Before he met John he could spend days at a time feeling down in the dumps when there wasn't a case. Sherlock still had his moments, but for the most part he felt an improvement had been made and it was thanks to John. His skull really was a poor substitute.

At one point they stopped off at a small café to enjoy a few cups of coffee. It was here that Sherlock recalled some old cases he'd had before John came to live with him. He recounted a few tales from his earlier days fresh out of university; but it was his tale of embezzlement in which he donned a disguise that John was truly impressed.

"Fantastic!" John said, with that lovely smile and look of wonder in his eyes, "all of it, fantastic. You really did start at a young age."

Sherlock found himself openly blushing, which, given the new circumstances he supposed it was not all that odd, though he felt a pang of annoyance with himself. Sherlock greatly admired John's ability to compliment him. John had always been genuinely impressed with his deductions and it was refreshing to hear "fantastic" and "brilliant" in comparison to "freak". Sherlock was positive he would never tire of the praise.

"Thank you" Sherlock offered humbly, fingering his cup of coffee, "but I only started young because it was the only thing that interested me; I wasn't like the others at university, I didn't spend my time socializing because I was always preoccupied with perfecting what skills I had." Sherlock wasn't sure if this confession bothered him or not, it was really just a fact.

"Well, it's a good thing you're different then isn't it? What would life be like without a consulting detective?"

Sherlock smiled, "Very boring I should think, and far worse off."

John's chuckle was infectious. Sherlock's longing manifested itself again tenfold. Only now it was not so much a matter of coping with his desire but of waiting. He had received all the assurances he could possibly need, and that should have been enough.

When John and Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street dusk was tingeing the skyline purple, while a steady rhythm of traffic and voices began to pick up as the city prepared for the night life. Mrs. Hudson stopped them on the stairs, she had a large dish in her hands, "Hello dears, I've been making a variety of Cheesecake's all day and thought you two might like one."

"Ah Mrs. Hudson, that is very kind of you." Sherlock smiled, reaching for the dish; she had some great recipes under her belt, cheesecakes being her specialty.

"Yes thank you, how thoughtful." John remarked.

"I'm off to see my family tonight; you boys enjoy your evening." They bid her the same.

Inside, they shrugged off their coats and eagerly cleared a space for the cheesecake. While devouring their slices, John said, "I know you suggested telly, but I just remembered that you haven't seen any of the Bond films; I promised you a James Bond night."

"That you did. I suppose I should give them a chance. Also, I think we should wait on the Chinese food, I've lost track of how many slices I've gone through."

"I completely agree; we'll have to get this recipe from her."

John started Sherlock out on a few classic Bond films with Sean Connery, as John insisted that was the proper order. Occasionally Sherlock would pipe up to say, "Ridiculous" or else mutter under his breath. It wasn't until the famous _Diamonds are forever_ film that Sherlock began to enjoy the series a bit more. They took an intermission half-way through the Bond marathon to grab Chinese food to bring back to the flat.

As they pulled out their fortune cookies John teased, "You're not going to attempt to predict the fortune again are you?"

Sherlock smirked in response and cracked open his fortune, "_Your life will be peaceful and fulfilling_." Sherlock sighed, "How dull, I don't think they're even trying to be creative anymore."

John read his next: "_Emulate what you respect in your friends_. Hmm. I think I'm satisfied with mine."

"It's decent." 

They resumed their marathon and settled into the sofa feeling very full. Sherlock nestled slightly closer to John, hoping he wasn't being obvious. John responded by resting his hand on Sherlock's thigh as if that was the most common gesture shared between them. Sherlock felt his breath hitch and his mind spin out of control before he said quite rashly, "I don't know if I can do this John, this…_easing_ into physical contact. I just…" He took a deep breath and stared intently at John, "need you." Sherlock surprised himself with the raw truth of his admission.

John stared dumbfounded at Sherlock. It took only a few seconds for John to recover, but the moment he did he pulled Sherlock tightly against him to envelope Sherlock's mouth with his own in a desperate kiss. Every emotion seemed to find relief in that kiss; every bit of stress and yearning mounted and dissolved until it was simply John Watson and Sherlock Holmes pressed relentlessly into one another, mouths uniting in a rhythm that was all their own.

John pulled back, eyes bright and lungs searching for air, but he looked suddenly uncertain. "Are we... moving too quickly?" Sherlock offered no reply, simply waiting silently for John to speak again. "It's just... I feel like this has been a long time coming, even if I didn't really know it... I think you feel that way, too. When we met, it wasn't an ordinary meeting, was it? I mean, nothing's ordinary with you, and nothing's been ordinary for us..." John bit his lip and looked away, seeming to try and organize his thoughts. Then his eyes turned back to his flat-mate, the concern in them evident, "I just want to be sure that you're quite certain about this, Sherlock."

Sherlock was touched, he agreed emphatically with every word John had spoken. From the moment they first met there was an immediate connection as well as something intangible. Even with only having really just met, John Watson had killed a man when he thought Sherlock's life was in danger. Sherlock had insisted he wasn't going to take the pill of course, but even he wasn't sure what he was capable of in that moment.

As he thought on these matters, Sherlock realized there was no doubt in his mind, instead a warm contentment had taken over his being the moment his lips had met Johns. To make himself clear, for at the moment a cohesive sentence seemed likely to fail, Sherlock pressed his erection into John's leg, replying breathlessly, "Positive." 

_A/N: Special credit to Thorn Wild who aided in rescuing John's character into something more realistic by offering an excellent piece of writing to the fic.  
>This is a really shitty cliff-hanger isn't it? I'm terribly sorry.<br>Side note: A lot of the material in this chapter I borrowed from John Watsons Blog and Sherlock's website, The Science of Deduction. If anyone wasn't aware the websites exist: Do check them out, they are very entertaining._


	7. Chapter 7

Coping chapitre sept

_Warning: It's going to get graphic._ _Prepare for hard slash_. 

John cupped Sherlock's face and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Sherlock sighed into John's mouth, sinking lower into the couch as John pressed his weight into him. Sherlock's mind sang with exaltation as John placed kisses along his taut neck.

"Should we move to the bedroom?" John asked between his ministrations to Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock was beyond needy at this point and quickly replied, "No." choosing instead to try and pull Johns jumper over his head. John leaned back and grabbed the remote to shut off the Bond film; he then swiftly removed his shirt in order to appease Sherlock who smiled when John's chest was bare. John smiled back and rocked his hips into Sherlock, eliciting moans from them both. Sherlock fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and John, moving exceptionally quickly, already had his own trousers off and was now working on Sherlock's. Sherlock felt himself near panting as an almost entirely nude John Watson pulled his trousers off of him. Once the clothing was flung across the room John removed Sherlock's underwear and immediately took hold of his erection, providing languid strokes.

A part of Sherlock was absolutely stunned that this was finally happening; John Watson was touching him, bringing forth the most intimate sounds and sights that no other human being had done before. John's eyes burned into his own as the hand between them moved with increasing vigor. It all became too much for Sherlock, he shut out the intense gray eyes and let his head fall back as the waves of his orgasm took him.

Sherlock kept his eyes closed and focused on steadying his breathing. He felt john shifting a bit before a soft kiss was placed on his forehead. His eyes fluttered open and John captured his mouth with newfound urgency. Sherlock trailed his hands along John's back; aware that at some point John had removed his boxers. Curiously, Sherlock reached for John's member and broke the kiss to watch his hand slide over the erect skin that belonged to his flat-mate. Sherlock mused that their penises were rather similar except that his own was more curved. Sherlock looked up from his work to see John smiling at him with a glint in his eyes that appeared playful and lustful.

"We'll need lube." John said, pulling Sherlock's hand from his groin and standing up. He walked off to the bedroom, giving Sherlock the perfect opportunity to admire John's well toned physique. Sherlock waited with bated breath, his mind spinning with lust and the scent of John.

John returned promptly, positioning himself between Sherlock's legs but hesitated, "Um…" he began uncertainly, licking his lips, "Well, there's really no easy way to ask this..." Sherlock smiled to himself seeing John's hesitation.

"No, I've never had sex before." Sherlock offered, helping to ease the situation.

"Okay…right. I'll move slowly." John smiled in reassurance. Dispensing a fair amount of lube, he placed a finger inside Sherlock's opening, telling him to "relax" as he slid slowly in and out. Sherlock tightly gripped either side of the couch, enjoying the sensations, but also feeling he might spontaneously combust with how odd yet how right the whole situation was. John's patience seemed to give out for he removed his finger and began to coat his member in the liquid substance, Sherlock was grateful, he needed John now, he needed all of him.

"Remember to relax." John said again. Sherlock appreciated the concern but was growing frustrated with the repetitiveness of it. John draped Sherlock's right leg over his shoulder and began to ease into him. Sherlock held his breath, aware now that this might be more painful than he had anticipated. John continued his measured progression until he came to the hilt, both men panting in response.

"You okay?" John questioned.

"Fine, I'm fine." Sherlock quickly replied, focusing all effort on relaxing his muscles.

John pulled back slowly and plunged in with less caution. Sherlock furrowed his brows and bit his lip, determined to work past the pain. John's pace continued to quicken and just when Sherlock thought it was becoming too much, a burst of pleasure seized him. He was aware of the benefits of the prostate but had not experienced it firsthand; he welcomed this new stimulation by rocking his hips in time with John's.

He watched himself being impaled with sheer wonder. Sex was such a basic human instinct but yet it had eluded Sherlock for most his life, until he met John Watson. There was chemistry there and a deep seeded caring that took his breath away. He watched the muscles of John's body moving and shifting as they administered such sweet delight to his own. Rapt with the beauty and desire of it all, he pulled John closer and crushed their mouths together, both kissing deeper and wider than they had before. As John drew nearer to his release he began to stroke Sherlock's erection again. In a frenzy of ragged breaths and varied moans, John came inside Sherlock, pressing himself in as far as possible. Sherlock followed suit a few seconds later, expelling his desire with force.

As their breathing returned to normal, John pushed aside a few tousled curls from Sherlock's eyes, but made no move to pull out his ever softening member. Sherlock welcomed the fullness, feeling a felicity that he wasn't sure he had ever felt before in his life. They stayed entwined in each others limbs, basking in the afterglow.

After a few moments passed, Sherlock said, "John, you should fetch me my nicotine patches."

John smiled and proceeded to sit up and pull on his boxers, Sherlock did the same. Once John grabbed the pack he turned back to Sherlock who was sitting up with his arm held out expectedly. John sat next to him, "Alright, how many?"

"Two should do the trick, I suspect." John placed two patches on the inside of Sherlock's forearm and watched as he sank back into his seat.

John leaned back as well and both sat in a content silence. Sherlock rested his head against John's shoulder, and John shifted so his head lay on top of Sherlock's.

"Now we won't be needing two bedrooms, will we?" John acknowledged.

Both men laughed, a simple gesture shared, but one which indicated that everything would be alright; cases would be solved and John would be at his side as a friend, lover, partner, and blogger… John Watson was his other half; they would always be essential to one another. 

Fin. 

_A/N: I wanted a "happily ever after" because I feel quite certain Moffat and Godtiss won't give us that._


End file.
